


Half a World Away

by Omnivorous_Reader



Category: Fast & Furious (Movies), Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Siblings, Slow Burn, T only for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnivorous_Reader/pseuds/Omnivorous_Reader
Summary: It all started when Luke intended to get back at Deckard for the whole Mike Oxmaul stunt. He didn't expect it to go any further
Relationships: Luke Hobbs/Deckard Shaw
Comments: 14
Kudos: 159
Collections: Shobbs Summer 2020 Fic Exchange





	Half a World Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pogue/gifts).



> Hi guys!
> 
> This fic was written for the Shobbs Summer FIc Exchange over on Tumblr! There's going to be a few more people posting fics like this one, so I highly encourage you to check them out!
> 
> This fic was written for Pogue. Hope you enjoy friend!

Luke could barely keep the smile off his face as he hit the call button and heard ringing. Leaning against the wall of the gym he was at, he finally felt his face split into a wide grin as he heard a british voice answer. 

“Let me guess, you have a mission to save the world that you just can’t do without me,” Deckard asked, and Luke could absolutely hear the eye roll in his voice. 

Putting the phone on speaker, Luke let out a chuckle as he stood and took off his jacket. 

“Nah, man. I was checking in on how my good friend was doing,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “And I, um-”

_ “Who are you talking to?” _

Luke froze. 

_ “Deck, who are you talking to?” _

The voice of Owen Shaw was very distinct, even if it barely filtered through the phone. 

“Get the hell out of my face, you little prick!” Deckard hissed back. 

_ “Not before you tell me who you’re talking to. They have to be important to make you smile like that.” _

A muffled sound came from the speaker, and if Luke had to guess, he would put his money on Deckard trying to keep his little brother from grabbing the phone. 

“It’s none of your business!”

_ “Is it Tom?” _

“No!”

_ “Lydia?” _

“For the last time, Owen! I’m not talking to anyone you forced me to go on a blind date with!” The brit nearly yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. 

“Blind date?” Luke asked, his curiosity thoroughly peaked. He grabbed up his phone, took it off speaker and put it up to his ear. He needed to make sure to hear all of this. “I thought the great Deckard Shaw would be able to get anyone he wanted. And not be forced to be set up on blind dates by his brother.”

“Shut it, you knob,” Deckard growled back, but didn’t deny anything, which only made Luke’s curiosity and laughter to grow. 

_ “C’mon, just tell me who you’re talking to!” _

“Is your little brother seriously whining right now?” Luke asked incredulously. There was a lot he was hoping to hear today, but to hear the guy he had chased around the world literally whining had not been something he had been expecting. 

Unfortunately, his question is ignored, and instead Luke can hear Owen’s voice much better. No doubt he was getting right up in Deckard’s face. 

_ “Who the bloody hell is ‘She-Hulk’?” _

“Nobody!” Deckard’s voice was getting close to sounding like a rabid animal, in Luke’s opinion. If the man kept growling, Luke was pretty sure he was going to hurt himself. “Would you leave me alone, you arsehole?”

_ “Fine,” _ Owen huffed, his voice getting smaller again.  _ “You want another pint?” _

“Yeah. But, don’t you dare drink half of it again!” Deckard barked after him. 

“You know what?” Luke asked. 

“What?” Deckard sighed, all fight seeming to disappear from his voice. 

“When I met your brother, he never striked me as the ‘annoying little brother’ type,” Luke commented. 

“Yeah, well. You didn’t really get to know him, did you?”

“Fair,” Luke agreed. Even now, he didn’t really want to get to know the younger Shaw brother. But, he had a feeling Owen would have a few choice words for what Luke had planned for Deckard. 

“Anyway, why the hell are you calling me?” 

“Oh, no particular reason,” Luke nonchalantly said. “Just wanted to hear what’s about to go down.”

“What are you talking about, numbnuts?” Deckard snorted. “All that’s going to happen is me and my brother enjoying a pint together.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that’s all that’s going to happen,” Luke smirked, and could just imagine the extremely suspicious look in the other man’s eyes as he said that. 

“What the bloody hell did you do, Hobbs?” 

“Just wait for it,” Luke chuckled. “It might involve rubber gloves and a cavity search.”

“You didn’t,” Deckard responded, his voice revealing that he didn’t quite believe Luke’s statement. But suddenly, Luke could hear shouting in the background. Right on time. “You bloody bastard.”

“Told you I would get you back, Shaw,” Luke laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Mike Oxmaul,” Deckard grunted back. 

“Oh, I will,” Luke promised him. “Just make sure your little brother doesn’t hurt the bobbies too much, Hugh Janus.”

“It’s not Owen they should be worried about. Or you, for that matter,” Deckard told him cooly. “Make sure to watch your back, Hobbs.”

_ “HOBBS?!” _

And with that final shout from Owen, the call was ended, leaving Luke sitting on a bench press, staring down at his phone. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to hear how Deckard and his brother got out of the situation he had set up. On the other hand, Luke couldn’t help but feel a shiver of excitement at Deckard’s last words. 

“Do your worst, Shaw,” Luke whispered down to his phone. He couldn’t wait to hear back from the Brit. 

~~~

Although he would never admit it, Luke was on edge for a while after that last call between him and Deckard. He tried to stop himself from looking behind him, tried to not stiffen up when a loud noise occurred, and most definitely tried not to think about all the ways the Brit could get back at him. 

Instead, he focused on planning his and Sam’s trip to Samoa, and finally allowing all of his family to come together. Luckily, since he just saved the world for the umpteenth time, nobody was really against him taking a long vacation. And every thought even connected to Shaw flew out of his mind when he saw the amazement in Sam’s eyes when they touched down in Samoa.

And when he saw his mother embrace Sam, Luke couldn’t help but feel conflicted. If he had to live his life over, he wouldn’t change the fact that he turned his father in and ran from his family. But, he wished he had come back to Samoa sooner. To repair bridges and let Sam have more of a family than a father. 

Now, as he sat in a chair, watching his family dance, sing, and laugh around a bonfire, the warm night air keeping their spirits high, Luke couldn’t be happier. He was so lost in watching everyone around him, he jumped a little when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw it was a text from Hattie. When he had introduced Sam to Jonah and his mother, he had gotten a picture of them, and without thinking, had sent it to Hattie, telling her about his family reunion. 

Looking down at the text, Luke could feel his eyebrows raising. 

_ Got my family reunion too :p _

Luke couldn’t help the loud snort he made as he looked down at the picture Hattie had sent.

It was a selfie of her and Owen. Hattie was smiling so much, Luke was surprised if it didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t help but copying her as he looked at Owen. Her brother’s face was completely covered in whipped cream, with his eyes screwed shut. Chuckling, Luke texted her back. 

_ That’s a good look for him _

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he forgot about the Shaws as he saw Sam running up to him, excitedly telling him about the cars Jonah had shown her. 

He didn’t think about the texts between him and Hattie until much later, when his whole family had crashed from the party, and he had finally convinced Sam to go to bed herself, promising that Samoa would still be there when she woke up. 

It wasn’t until he had gone to his own bed, ready to fall into it, that he got another text but this time from a different Shaw. Apparently Deckard also wanted to send him pictures. 

“Now isn’t that adorable,” Luke muttered, scrolling through the several pictures the Brit had sent him. 

The first was of Hattie and Owen, who seemed to have melded together, because Luke couldn’t tell where one started and the other began. They were both asleep, cuddled up on a couch. Luke had to admit that both siblings looked the most peaceful he had ever seen either of them looking before. Hattie was laying on Owen’s chest, head tucked under his chin, while Owen had his arms securely wrapped around his little sister. 

The next photo was of an older woman, who Luke had to guess was Magdalene Shaw, the siblings’ mother. She was dressed smartly, but her composed demeanor was completely destroyed by the position she was in. She was fast asleep in an armchair, her head resting on her shoulder, while her hands rested on the armrests, both hands holding something. An empty wine glass and a plate with half-eaten food stayed in her loose grip.

Luke’s grin just grew as he took the older woman in. It seemed like it was naptime for the Shaw household. 

The other pictures were all of Owen and Hattie, both seeming like they were having way too much fun in Luke’s opinion. Especially when in the one with both of them juggling knives. He looked the pictures over, a small smile present on his face. It was nice to see that the Shaw family had finally been mended. 

He was about to text back to Deckard, when he instead received one.

_ Deck was being a butt and refused to send these _

“Really living up to the reputation of a little sister, aren’t you Hattie?” Luke snorted. 

He wasn’t surprised in the least to wake up to a text from Deckard in the morning. 

_ Hatts stole my phone. Ignore all of this _

Rolling his eyes, Luke texted back. 

_ I’ll gladly ignore you princess _

~~~

The kitchen was filled with delicious smells, the sounds of several pots boiling, a frypan sizzling, and the sound of rhythmic cutting, all which could be heard over soft classical music. Suddenly, a loud ringing filled the kitchen, cutting through every other noise. Putting down the knife he had been using, Deckard whipped his hands before picking up his phone. 

“Shaw.”

“Did you send a fucking  _ assassin _ after me?!”

“Nice to hear from you, Hobbs,” Deckard smirked. He put his phone on speaker, placing it on the counter next to him. Picking up his knife again, he continued to cut up the onion on the cutting board. “Sounds like you didn’t quite enjoy my latest present.”

“Airport security is one thing, Shaw,” Luke growled. “A fucking assassin is another!”  
“Oh, please,” Deckard rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ask him to kill you.”

“No,” Luke hissed. “Instead, you asked him to ruin my mission, beat the shit out of me, and leave me a laughing stock in front of my whole team.”

“Well, what else would you expect to happen?” Deckard asked. “The guy was wearing a clown nose.”

“What kind of assassin would wear a clown nose!” Luke shouted through the speaker, making Deckard burst out laughing. “And not to mention, that guy is even smaller than your puny ass! Do you know what the guys are saying about me after this whole fiasco?”  
“I would love to hear what they’re saying,” Deckard hummed. “But you really shouldn’t have even tried fighting Francis. He’s not quite… classically trained.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that when the guy started dancing and still got me on my back,” Luke hissed back. 

“Just be glad I didn’t actually ask him to kill you. The guy still owes me a few favors from Siberia.”

“Well, thank you so much for sparing my life, your majesty,” Luke groused, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “But don’t you dare think we’re even.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Deckard snorted. “Have fun writing up the report of how you got your ass handed to you by a clown.”

“Fuck you, Shaw.”

~~~

Two weeks later, and still no retribution from Hobbs, Deckard had to wonder what the other man was planning. He was kind of hoping the other man would copy him again and send someone after him. Deckard needed a good fight. 

After he had returned from Samoa and proved his innocence of killing his team when he was an agent, Deckard’s life had gone in several directions. MI6 had been trying to contact him, with Hattie bugging him every other day to answer their calls. Meanwhile, his mother was out of prison and up to her old tricks. 

Both parties were trying to convince Deckard to work for them. And in all honesty, he was sick of it.

It was offensive that the spy organization thought they could ask him to come back, with no sort of apology or acknowledgement that they had hunted him down like a beast. All they wanted was his skills and undying loyalty. It didn’t help that they had convinced Hattie that Deckard working for them would be a dream come true for the younger Shaw. 

And at the same time, here was his mother, calling him nearly every day and asking him what he was up to. And then asking if he would like to join either her or Owen on a heist. And while her offers did sound tempting, they were not what Deckard was looking for. 

After so many years being on the run and relying on himself, Deckard had to admit one thing: it had been freeing not to take orders. 

His whole life, he either followed his parents’ word, and then it was every drill sergeant, captain, squad leader, and then senior agent telling him what to do. He had been the perfect agent. Always following orders to a T, but now, after experiencing life following his own code, he didn’t want to return to following someone else’s rules. 

For the first time in a long time, he was truly free to do whatever he wanted.

The only problem was, Deckard had no idea what he wanted to do. 

Now, here he was sitting alone in his home, late at night, reading a book on gardening. 

He had already gone through several books: some biographies of famous spies, others about Russia’s rulers, and even a japanese romance novel Owen had left at his place. None of them had kept his attention. 

Nothing seemed to be keeping his attention nowadays. He had taken a walk earlier through the streets of London, and everything seemed… dull. 

He used to find the old city’s streets to be exciting when he was a child. But his excitement turned to cautiousness as he grew older and the streets began to become much more threatening. But even when he was on the run and every street corner could have spelled his doom, Deckard had never thought of London as a dull place. 

But now everything seemed dull in comparison to his time spent running around the world, being chased by Brixton and being forced to work with Luke Hobbs. 

Sighing, Deckard put his book down and scrubbed a hand down his face, and briefly considered just turning in for the night. Even sleep seemed more interesting than anything else in his apartment. 

The only real highlight of his days recently had been when his siblings would visit. It was calming to be in the kitchen, bickering back and forth with one or both of them. To have his home filled with teasing and laughter, instead of the usual silence that encased it like a tomb, it was a nice change. But, it didn’t happen often. MI6 had fully reinstated Hattie and was constantly assigning her to missions, while Owen was busy helping their mother with heists or heists of his own. 

And while Deckard enjoyed having his family around, he would never bother them and force them to stay longer. They were all adults and they had their own lives to live. Deckard just wished he could figure out to live his. 

Ringing from his phone cut through his thoughts and making Deckard blink in surprise. He shouldn’t be getting calls this late, unless someone was in trouble. Picking the phone up, Deckard tilted his head at the caller, but nonetheless he answered it. 

“What do you want, Hobbs?”

“Hey,” Luke greeted him hesitantly. “It’s not too late for me to call, is it?”  
Deckard quirked an eyebrow at that. 

“Luke Hobbs being considerate of what time it is for me? What has the world come to?”

“Oh, fuck off, you jackass,” Luke huffed back. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“And why would you want to do that? Need something?” Deckard asked, sitting up, a hint of suspicion in his voice. 

“Actually,” Luke sighed. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Deckard felt his other eyebrow follow the first, as they both raised in surprise. 

“Finally admitting you’re not superman and actually need help?”

“If you’re going to be an ass about it, then I’m just going to hang up,” Luke snapped. 

“Oh, don’t go getting your knickers in a bunch, you oversized idiot.” Deckard rolled his eyes. “What do you need help with?”

It was almost as if a switch had been hit because Luke’s voice went from snappish and full of his usual bravo to professional. 

“Since you’re more familiar with Europe’s criminal underground, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something in France’s black market.”

“I might know a guy who sells illegal tech in France,” Deckard offered. He heaved himself off his couch and went towards the kitchen, where he left his laptop on the table. “What are you specifically looking for?”

“We’re looking for a very intelligent trojan horse. A prototype has been making its way through some smaller countries’ firewalls and we want to find it’s source. We think whoever programmed it is selling it out of France.”

Getting comfortable, Deckard listened to Luke, his hands flying over his laptop’s keyboard, messaging his contacts and hacking into a few others’ systems and seeing if they had anything to do with it. 

They went back and forth, sharing what information they were both collecting, talking each other through several theories of who could be behind the virus. Of course, small insults were thrown in, but if anything, it helped keep the air between them light, and without realizing it, Deckard had started to smile. 

He didn’t know when he started to laugh at the more inane jokes Luke threw out, claiming that he was a father and allowed to make such jokes. 

“You’re a wanker, is what you are,” Deckard snorted. 

“I can be both!”

Time passed quickly, both too caught up in their search and personal banter to realize how late it had gotten. 

“So, we have it narrowed down to three suspects,” Luke concluded. Deckard leaned back in his chair, looking over the three profiles on his screen and let out a hum. 

“I still think you should take Josh Lafrance off the list.”

“Why? You know him?”

“Only met him a few times,” Deckard admitted, chewing on his lip in thought. “Let me call him up. If I can’t make him squeal, Owen can.”

“Please don’t tell me your brother is involved in this shit. I don’t need to be chasing his ass around the world again.”

“Bugger off. If Owen was part of this, I’d wring his neck.”

“Just wanted to check,” Luke placated. “But, how does he know Lafrance?”

Deckard felt his face twist in consideration. 

“It’s not really any of my business, or your’s, but I’m pretty sure they shag occasionally,” Deckard finally admitted. 

“Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“Sorry, just didn’t think your brother was into guys.”

“He’ll get with anything that’s pretty enough,” Deckard shrugged. “Or interesting enough. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s gotten in trouble by shagging the wrong person.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Luke chuckled. “And what about you? Have you ‘shagged’ anyone’s wife that you shouldn’t have?”

“Oi! I don’t sleep with any married people,” Deckard huffed in indignation. “But, there was this one time I got into a spot of trouble by sleeping with a mob boss’s son.”

“Of course you did,” Luke outright laughed. 

“It wasn’t my fault the little bugger used me as an excuse to sneak out!” Deckard defended himself, but felt his smile undermining his statement. At the time, it had been intimidating to get threatened by a mob boss, but now, Deckard couldn’t deny that it had been a bit funny that he had been an act of rebellion by the boss’s son. 

Deckard was about to explain further, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a yawn took over his words and made him completely incomprehensible.

“What in the fresh hell was that noise?”

“Fuck off, you prick. I’m just yawning.”

“Oh shit. How late is it for you?” Luke asked, no doubt just noticing the time. “Shit. I shouldn’t have kept you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, twinkletoes,” Deckard told him, but had to stifle another yawn.

“Either way, sorry to keep you up so late,” Luke apologized. “An old man like you needs his rest.”

“Who the bloody hell are you calling old, you rat bastard?” Deckard growled, but was only met by laughter. 

“Night, Shaw. Thanks again for your help.”

And with those parting words, the call ended, suddenly plunging Deckard back into silence. 

Looking down at his phone, Deckard couldn’t help but slump back into his chair. 

“Night, Hobbs,” he said to the empty room. 

~~~

Luke was in a hotel room in France a week later, finally falling into bed after busting an infamous hacker who had been selling government ruining tech to the highest bidder. Luke was exhausted and planned to sleep until it was the next day and he had to fly back to L.A.

He let out a groan of despair when he heard his phone ringing. 

“What the fuck do you bastards want now?” He sighed to himself, but eventually forced himself to sit up and answer his phone. He didn’t bother checking who was calling, just assuming it was his boss calling for an update. 

“I really wish I was an only child sometimes,” a british voice sighed heavily into Luke’s ear. 

“What?” Luke responded back intelligently. 

“My brother and sister are going at it right now,” Deckard explained. And Luke grimaced at the sound of bone tiredness in the other man’s voice. He sounded even more exhausted than Luke felt. 

“What are they fighting about?” He asked, a bit of concern in his voice. It had seemed like the three Shaws got along fairly well. What could have happened to set them off?

Luke’s worry only grew when Deckard didn’t respond. 

“Shaw?”

Another sigh. 

“Hattie knew Cipher.”

“What?!” Luke yelped. 

“Well, she didn’t really  _ know _ Cipher,” Deckard amended. 

“Then how the hell does Hattie know her?” Luke demanded. 

“Apparently they met in a bar,” Deckard explained. “They hit it off, had a few one night stands, and then parted ways.”

“Did Cipher do anything to Hattie?” Luke asked, his exhaustion completely forgotten as he thought about all the ways Cipher could have hurt the youngest Shaw. 

“That’s the weird thing,” Deckard huffed in frustration. “It was only a small fling. Nothing else happened. We don’t think Cipher even  _ knew  _ who Hattie was.”

“What? How’s that even possible?”

“Hattie erased all traces of her being related to our family when she left,” Deckard sighed. “She must have done such a good job, Cipher didn’t find any trace of her in Owen’s or my files.”

“So, it was just a harmless fling between them?” Luke cautiously asked. 

“Seems that way.”

“Then why are your brother and sister fighting?”  
“Well…”

“What?”

“Owen might have, uh…”

It was Luke’s turn to sigh. 

“Let me guess, your brother also had a fling with Cipher while he worked with her.”

“Yeah.”

“But why would Hattie be upset?”

“It’s not that simple,” Deckard said. “This isn’t the first time Hatts and Oh have slept with the same person.”

“Oh my god.” Luke wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or not. “How many times?”

“Too many,” Deckard let out a groan. “They’ve been at it for an hour already.”

“Do you think they’ll wear themselves out?”

“Not really,” Deckard siad. “Here, listen.”

There was a beat of silence, no doubt Deckard walking back to his siblings. And then-

_ “YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT!”  _ Hattie’s screech came through loud and clear. As did Owen’s response. 

_ “GO FUCK YOURSELF!” _

“See?” Deckard’s voice sounded small next to his siblings’ yelling. 

“Yeah. I kinda wish you were an only child, too.”

It was nice to hear Deckard’s laugh after all the sighing he had been doing earlier. 

~~~

They had talked for a while after that, Deckard telling Luke about all the times his brother and sister found out they had been with the same person. But eventually, he had to hang up, Hattie demanding he come to her defense. 

Before the other man could be pulled into the screaming match, Luke had made him promise to keep him updated on the fight. He was too invested now. 

Unfortunately, Luke fell asleep, phone still clutched in his hand. When he woke up hours later, he blurriedly blinked at the several missed messages from Deckard. 

_ Two hours now _

_ Four *eye roll emoji* _

_ They’ve finally stopped for tea _

_ Nvm. Owen started throwing biscuits _

The final message was a picture of Owen and Hattie throwing food at each other, but a smile on both their faces. 

_ They always have to ruin my kitchen _

Luke let out a laugh, just imagining the look of irritation and fondness on Deckard’s face. 

~~~

After that, Luke could feel a shift in their sorta-kinda-maybe friendship. Luke didn’t hesitate to call the Brit, asking for his help in something. Their talks would start off professional, but would soon dissolve into something warmer, friendlier. It felt natural for Luke to throw out a harmless insult, or start a nonsensical argument, because Deckard would respond in kind, keeping up with Luke with his own wit. 

Soon enough, their calls turned to texting, mostly because he didn’t need Sam picking up on his language. It was summer vacation now and she kept insisting for her bedtime to be later and later. 

It seemed like no matter when Luke would text Deckard, the man would respond within ten minutes. He became used to always seeing a message from the Brit, that Luke could feel a sense of worry crawl up his spine when Deckard didn’t respond to him for several days. 

It was after almost a week of no response, when Luke finally received a text in the middle of the night. Sam was at a sleepover and Luke had treated himself to a marathon of all the basketball games he had missed recently. 

_ You busy? _

Luke furrowed his brow in confusion. Deckard was usually not that brief in his texts.

_ No. What do you need? _

Instead of a text, Luke’s phone lit up with a call, which he answered immediately. 

“Deckard?” He gently asked. 

“Hey.”

Luke winced at the croak that came over the phone. Deckard’s voice sounded wrecked. 

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Deckard mumbled, his words slurring together. 

“Are you drunk?” Luke asked incredulously. 

“A bit,” the Brit sighed. His voice sounded even more distorted, almost as if something was covering his face. 

“Tell me what happened.”

“I saw my Da,” Deckard whispered so quietly, Luke almost couldn’t hear him. And he noticed how thick the Brit’s accent was getting, no doubt the alcohol loosening his tongue. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Luke cautiously questioned. He couldn’t remember either Deckard or Hattie talking about their father. And he hadn’t seen anything about the man in any of the Shaw siblings’ files. 

“I don’t know,” Deckard sighed and Luke could tell the other man was lying. His voice sounded so broken, and Luke swore he could hear something else in his voice. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

“Could we…” Deckard trailed off. 

“What?” Luke asked, his voice gentle, not wanting to scare Deckard off. 

“Could we just talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Of course,” Luke immediately agreed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How’s your daughter doing? Sam, right?”  
“She’s doing great,” Luke started, a smile appearing on his face. “She’s gotten into rollerblading recently. You wouldn’t believe how many times I have to remind her to wear her knee pads.”

“As reckless as her old man,” Deckard chuckled softly. 

“Who the hell are you calling old?”

They talked for hours after that. From how the next school year would go for Sam to what the weather in London would be like in the morning. Deckard never talked about his father or why he had drunkenly called Luke, but Luke wasn’t about to push the man. He understood father issues. Instead, he stayed up with Deckard and didn’t let him off the line until he was satisfied that Deckard was in a better mood. 

It wasn’t until the fifth yawn in a row did Luke finally tell Deckard:

“Alright, princess, I think it’s past midnight. Your fairy godmother's spell is going to wear off soon.”

“Screw you, Luke,” Deckard yawned loudly. 

“Sweet dreams, Deck,” Luke whispered. 

“Mmhmm,” Deckard hummed. “You, too.”

~~~

The next morning, Deckard woke up with a raging hangover and laying on the floor of his living room. Gingerly sitting up, Deckard looked around for his phone, wondering what time it was. Sun was already streaming through the windows, only helping to make his headache even worse. 

“Where the bloody fuck did it go?” Deckard hissed quietly, holding his head in one hand, and groping under the couch for his phone. Finally, slick metal brushed against his fingers and he quickly snatched up his phone. 

It was nearly noon. 

“Bloody hell.”

And then he blinked at the message from Luke. 

_ Hope you slept well princess _

Suddenly, Deckard’s headache didn’t seem so bad. 

~~~

Curled up on his couch, Deckard sipped at his tea and enjoyed the newest episode of the crime drama he was following. Almost everything in the show was nonsense, but the characters were interesting and had unfortunately caught Deckard’s attention. 

His quiet evening was interrupted by his phone going off. 

Putting his tea down and picking up his phone, Deckard smiled at the screen.

It was Luke. 

It was almost ritual at this point. Almost every day after Deckard had drunkenly called Luke, they would call each other, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. The only reason they hadn’t talked in the last three days was because Luke was undercover on a mission. 

Answering the call, Deckard smiled wider. 

“About time you called, twinkletoes.”

“Hey, Deck,” Luke wheezed.

Deckard’s smile dropped immediately. 

“Luke? What’s wrong?” Deckard tried to keep his voice calm, but it was difficult as he felt a jolt of fear go down his back. Had the mission gone wrong?

“Things went a bit tits up,” Luke responded, his voice weak. 

“What happened?”

“Someone leaked that I was a cop. I barely got out of there.”

“Are you hurt?” Deckard tried not to sound too panicked, but was sure it still came through. 

“A stray bullet to the side,” Luke grunted in obvious pain. 

“Where in the side?” Deckard demanded. 

“I’m not a doctor, Deck. I’m losing blood fast, that’s all I know.”

“Is backup on its way?”

“Yeah. But not for a while.”

“Try not to move. And keep pressure on the wound,” Deckard hurriedly suggested, feeling his frayed nerves bristle at the weak chuckle Luke let out. 

“I know, Deck. I’ve been in this kind of situation before. I know what to do,” Luke reassured him. 

“Then why the bloody hell did you call me? You shouldn’t be talking and using up your strength,” Deckard snapped. 

“I don’t know. I just,” Luke started. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Deckard felt his heart clench at those words. 

“You idiot.”

“I know. But I’m your idiot,” Luke said, clearly straining to speak. 

“Just stop talking,” Deckard pleaded. “Save your strength.”

“Then you talk. Tell me about your day.”

“Fine. Just promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“I promise,” Luke whispered. 

Deckard talked about anything he could think of: about all the missions he did for MI6, about the recent heists his brother had just pulled, about the annoying neighbors across the street. Occasionally, he would hear Luke hum in response or give a one word answer, just to show that he was awake. 

“I swear, I’m going to go over there and bash their teeth in one day,” Deckard groused. “Who the hell needs to play music that loud?”

He waited for Luke’s response, but there was silence. 

“Luke?”

Nothing. 

“Luke!”  
Deckard checked that the call was still going. It was. 

“LUKE!”

“Deck?” Luke weakly coughed. 

“Luke,” Deckard heard his voice break. “You need to stay awake. At least until backup arrives.”

“I can’t,” Luke slurred. 

“You have to,” Deckard urged him. 

“Deck, I…”

Then Deckard heard it. 

Shouting. 

“Luke! Is that your backup?”

All he heard was the sound of Luke’s labored breathing. 

“Please, for the love of Christ, Luke! Please answer me!”  
The only thing that came through the phone was shouting, but it was still too far away from Deckard to make anything out.

And then nothing. 

Looking down, Deckard saw that the call had ended. 

He didn’t notice he had been crying until a tear fell onto the phone’s black screen.

~~~

Deckard kept calling Luke’s phone, but to no avail. He didn’t know anyone that Luke worked with. When he called Dom Toretto up, the man was clueless about Luke’s whereabouts and not even knowing he had been on a mission. Desperately, Deckard tried hacking Luke’s phone, but all that got him was Luke’s location, which was in Washington, D.C., where Luke’s mission had taken place. Half a world away from Deckard. 

Luckily, it seemed like backup had arrived, because Luke’s phone was at a hospital, one of the best in the country. 

Deckard didn’t want to admit it, but the whole time after their call had ended, Deckard had barely moved from his computer. He barely ate or slept, only staring at his phone and nearly begging it to ring. 

It had been over twenty-four hours, and still no word. Deckard could feel himself going mad. 

“If you don’t survive this, Hobbs, I’m going to bring you back from the dead and kill you myself,” Deckard growled. 

When the thirty hour mark hit, Deckard decided that he was too jumpy to hold a knife. So, he went out, intending to grab something to eat, knowing that he at least needed to keep his own strength up. 

He was halfway to the Gregg’s near his apartment when he felt his phone vibrate. 

Nearly ripping his phone out of his pocket, Deckard had to try three times to actually hit the accept call button. 

“Luke?”  
“Hey, princess,” Luke said quietly. And even though his voice sounded scratchy, Deckard could hear the energy in it. “Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

“Are you alright?” Deckard demanded, ignoring what Luke said. 

“I’m fine, Deck,” Luke soothed him. “The bullet didn’t hit anything major. I just lost a lot of blood is all.”

“Oh, you just lost some blood?” Deckard sneered. “It’s not like you can die from that!”

Deckard glared at the people on the street staring at him. Can’t a man yell in peace?  
“Deck.”

“What?!” He snapped. 

“I’m fine. Really.”

Deckard took a breath, about to start shouting again. But suddenly, the last day of worrying and no sleep crashed into him. He could feel himself wobble as he stood on the sidewalk, his head feeling like it was filled with cotton. 

“If you’re sure,” Deckard whispered instead. 

“I am,” Luke said firmly. “I’m sorry to make you worry, Deckard.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Deckard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He began walking again, even though his legs felt like jelly from the relief that Luke was going to be fine. 

~~~

Deckard was in his kitchen again, when he got a call from Luke. It had only been a few days since Luke had been shot and in the hospital having surgery. Putting down the carrots he had gotten out of the fridge, Deckard answered his phone. 

“How are you feeling, twinkletoes?”

“I’m good,” Luke said. “But I’d be better if you opened the door.”

Deckard blinked. 

“What?”

“Deck. Come open the door. I’m melting out here.”

Not really knowing what was going on, Deckard made his way to his front door. Opening it, he came face to face with one Luke Hobbs. Who held his own phone up to his ear, smiling down at Deckard. 

“About time, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'll be making a collections page for all of those who submitted stories to this challenge. Make sure to check everyone else's fics out!
> 
> If you want to know more about the exchange, feel free to hit me up! I was the one hosting it. Feel free to ask me at my tumblr: omnivorousshipper


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